


Decease and Desist

by PidgeonsonSynthesizers



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Max is actually a medium here, archived and recently rediscovered lmao, does it count as major character death if they are already dead from the beginning or nah?, maybe up to telling someone a plotline idea and giving it away? depends on my mood, no beta only my own dumb brain, uuuuuhhh death? yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 10:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PidgeonsonSynthesizers/pseuds/PidgeonsonSynthesizers
Summary: Max finds a guitar in a small clearing in the middle of the woods.





	Decease and Desist

**Author's Note:**

> This has literally been sitting in my documents for months and has never seen the light. I have no idea if I'll ever upload any other chapters or continue the story, as this is a drabble I was going to expand but never did and I already have one fic that I'm having trouble keeping up with. I guess it depends on what you all think or how you respond.
> 
> We'll have to see.

It had all started when Max had picked up the guitar.

He had wandered deep into the woods. He wanted to avoid a camp activity, and simply continued to go deeper and deeper into the green of the forest, sparse trees with blue sky shining above slowly transitioning into a green canopy overhead that only let filtered sunlight shine through. The lighting seemed to give the vast expanse of forest that surrounded him on all sides an eerie yet inviting glow, giving an aura of mystery and allure.

Max was not the kind of person to ponder, because that only led to self-hate and existential crises. He was also not the kind of person who would admire his surroundings, because they always changed too fast or were too chaotic for him.

But this.

This he could admire.

It was still. Quiet. Serene, and all of the other superfluous words that he would never think of and definitely would never say out loud. Fancy words were for poets and pretentious assholes, and even if he was an asshole he didn't consider himself pretentious. He simply gazed at the world with mild interest, face set in its almost permanent expression of a relaxed, neutral scowl.

That moment of pausing in the forest was what led him to set eyes on the instrument. A strange buzz seemed to sparkle through him, his eyebrows raising slightly as he turned in the general direction of where it came from. The guitar was a sorrowful thing to gaze at yet still had an air of gentle happiness surrounding it. It was nestled in between the two roots at the bottom of a massive tree, all of the strings popped off and a couple of tuning pegs shattered, it's once shiny glossed body now sullied with dirt and moss that grew on the edges. There were a couple of charms depicting various symbols of peace and nature tied around the neck of the instrument, along with what looked like a green and blue friendship bracelet.

Max took a couple cautious steps towards the mysterious instrument, wondering how it had gotten so far in the woods and why it was simply left there at the mercy of nature whoever had owned it previously seemed to appreciate so much. Clearly, it had been loved dearly by whoever possessed it before. It seemed like there was some very joyous energy calling him to it, and despite all initial intentions of simply looking at it and then leaving it there he had found himself slowly advancing, taking more steps closer as some inviting embrace seemed to wash over him in waves from the strange object itself.

His footsteps finally ended with one last crunch upon the leaves and sticks that littered the forest floor, gazing at the instrument with calculating eyes before shrugging and reaching out.

As his fingertips brushed the once smooth wood making up the body of the guitar, he felt a shiver run up his spine, a sensation that felt like the jarring shock you get when first jumping into a cold pool or the tingle of static electricity when you touch a metal door. He shuddered, but it wasn't unpleasant. A warm feeling then blossomed within his gut, spreading throughout his body until even his fingertips buzzed with whatever it was.

After being transfixed for a time, Max suddenly jerked back, eyes wide as he stumbled backward away from the thing. That wasn't normal. That was… strange. Could possibly be dangerous, made him warm through simple contact despite being left in the damp grass, cold until his fingers brushed against it. It was… startling. Unknown, and what was unknown was possibly dangerous.

And it felt nice.

But what feels nice would most likely be taken away from him. His parents would never let him have a guitar, especially not a broken one covered in filth and plant growth. 

But his parents aren't here. Better yet, how and why did it happen? Even more importantly, why did he even care? It's just another sad, wasted piece of trash.

He was too preoccupied with his dilemma to register the silence that enveloped him. The sounds of the woodland creatures, the clicks of the summer cicadas, the birds singing above- they all had stopped.

Max finally brought himself out of the loop of thought before glancing once more at the guitar he had turned away from in his musing on whether to bring it to the camp to keep it or not. He then sighed, tired of thinking in circles and wasting his own time on this instead of keeping his mind comfortably blank as he wandered.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled before reaching for the instrument and grabbing it's still sturdy neck, the pleasantly warm feeling nestling itself into his core once more. He pulled gently at the neck near the head, yet it didn't budge from its snug hole in between the roots.

He let loose an aggravated growl as he tugged it again, harder this time, and still failed to completely remove it from its place. He then gave it one last pull with all of his arm strength, impatient grumbling turning into a surprised yell when it suddenly broke free, his force sending him tumbling down ass first with a dirty, earthy smelling guitar that was WAY too big for him resting on top of his chest and stomach, the neck touching his face.

Max mumbled as he began to rise up, the guitar sliding off before he grabbed it with a hand and held it out at arm's length. “Piece of shit!” he exclaimed before the wind picked up. One intense cold breeze blew his hair around as he collected himself, his curls flipping around briefly before they settled, almost as if the wind was disapproving of his quite eloquent speech. 

His eyebrows raised once more at the sudden chilling breeze and he finally realized that he felt another energy or presence nearby, yet it still remained hidden. Perhaps it was a deer. That'd be kinda cool.

He finally got off of the ground and set the guitar where it rested lightly on the side of his leg and slightly on the ground, still buzzing from the contact. He then brushed off the dirt that he could, patting his hoodie and jeans down until he was satisfied. He grabbed the guitar with both hands, the instrument large in comparison to him yet still manageable before turning away from the large tree, ready to leave the area and get rid of the feeling of watching eyes. The shadows had also started to flicker oddly, and although they didn't seem unwelcoming or malicious, he knew he was the last person who needed to be around when something strange occurred.

He ran, not knowing why or how but only knowing that something felt very, very wrong in that clearing after he disturbed the guitar, his feet picking up the pace quickly as his eyes narrowed at the trees. But he sure as hell was not bringing it back now, panting as he rushed through the forest for some unknown reason. The instrument was actually reassuring and comforting him as he ran.

Once he had run for a long while in the direction of the camp, he finally stopped in his tracks and gasped, sucking in a large breath, leaning against a trunk of a tree as he slid down to the forest floor, guitar thumping down on the ground next to him. He heaved as he laid on the ground, one hand still grasping the strange guitar as if it were a lifeline.

Shit, was he seriously that worked up over a guitar? And a few shadows in the woods? Maybe he should be taking pills as the doctor suggested.

He stomps his foot on the ground and lets loose a growling sound from the back of his throat. He hears a very quiet dull thump instead of the satisfying crunch of sticks and leaves underneath him, and he realized that he had somehow miraculously run back to the path he had left about an hour earlier despite his directionless panic. His ears seemed to pick up even the slightest disturbance after the suffocating silence of before, enough to notice a yell that he instantly recognized as Gwen's followed by a maniacal laugh from Nikki. He figured he must be close, but he certainly hadn't anticipated finding his way back so quickly and easily. 

Odd.

As he made his way down the familiar path, he didn't quite hear the whisper on the wind, as unassuming and quiet as a rustling of leaves from the breeze or an animal. It was whisked away by the wind itself, a phantom of something left behind and forgotten.

The sighs of the dead are not often noticed by the living.

**Author's Note:**

> make what you will of this. If y'all seem desperate or REALLY want more, scream at me, maybe I'll make this into a like, three chapter thing or a series of one-shots. Hope you all liked my weird drabble.


End file.
